This Is Not a Place For a Kid
by TaylorWayero
Summary: Frerard HORROR! DO NOT READ IF EASILY DISTURBED!    "Just close your eyes and trust me." One-shot


**WARNING! INTENSE GORE and SLASH! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED KIDS!**

* * *

Frank Iero's not used to waking up to someone else's presence, especially at 3 o' clock in the morning, but when he does, he knows exactly who it is.

"Gerard."

"Franklin."

The younger of the two winces at the name. Gerard is teasing himagain, but you wouldn't be able to tell, Gerard has a terribly dry and dark sense of humor.

"What're _you _doing up?" He asks. He can just make out the older boy's silhouette. He's cocking his head to the side, trying to think up a response.

"I…um…" He's stammering; he doesn't know what to say.

"I…I wanted to see you." He finally confesses. At first, Frank's annoyed because, really, _that's it?_

"Couldn't you see me tomorrow? When it's like, light out and stuff?" he hisses, but then he notices Gerard rejected posture and he wants to take it back because he looks so torn. He looks embarrassed; and now it's awkward.

"Um-"and that's all Frank can say because then Gerard leans forward from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and his face is just inches from Frank's. Frank can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin and strands of jet black hair brush against his cheeks. At first he's confused, but then Gerard moves just that much closer and his lips are on Frank's lips and his mouth is on Frank's mouth and there's understanding and _oh_ and Frank gets it. He's kissing back even though he's not sure if he wants to, but he feels he should. He moans a bit for effect, and Gerard takes it as some sort of cue. He shifts his leg around so he's straddling Frank's slim waist. Frank is playing along because, well, it doesn't really feel _bad._

They're both grabbing at each other and clinging to each other like stupid teenagers with raging hormones. This is the point where Frank has a revelation: he is enjoying the moment, he's having fun. He moans a bit louder and tugs on Gerard's boxers playfully, but the older boy pushes him back down, pinning him down, his palms on his shoulders.

"Close your eyes and trust me." He whispers huskily, and, of course, Frank does. He can feel Gerard playfully running his tongue along Frank's chest down to his lower abdomen, and then he's gone. There is a slip second before Frank feels a different sensation, a prickly feeling, like a shard of ice on his skin. He can feel it like electricity; it runs from the base of his neck down to his navel and in the next second he can feel the warm spreading through him and he wonders if this is what it feels like to really love someone and, and-

And then he realizes: he's bleeding.

He shoots upright with a yelp, eyes popping open and widening as he stares at Gerard, knife clutched firmly in his left hand, sweet smile plastered on his face. He can't believe it. There's blood-his blood dripping of the metallic surface. A shallow trench running from his collar bone to the center of his stomach oozes crimson, and Frank has to look away to keep from gagging.

"Gerard! What the hell!" He shouts, and the older of the two gently covers his mouth.

"Frankie…shhhh, you'll wake up the others. You don't want them running around all worried when there's nothing to be afraid of… hmm?" And Frank shakes his head because he just wants out, and he's terrified. He feels stupid, because he thought he knew who Gerard was and he didn't. He wants to go home. He wants out of this room, out of this motel. (They we staying for the night instead of Mikey's van, because it was a rare time when they could afford it and they though "why the hell not?") Out of _this_. And now the man he thought he knew has a concerned look on his face and he tilts Frank's chin up and kisses him gently.

"Why so gloomy-lookin' Frankie? Aren't you havening fun?" He looks disappointed, and Frank doesn't know what to say, because he knows what will happen if he says something wrong.

"N-no…just, um…tired, I guess." He hopes that's a good enough response for Gerard. It is. He shifts again, so that he's next to Frank and he wraps his arms around the young man's torso, sighing.

"Ok, I guess we should get some sleep, huh? Busy day tomorrow." He hates the way Gerard's voice is higher and sing-songy, in a pleasantly insane way. He wonders why he didn't see this coming.

* * *

A couple of hours, and he's still wide awake, not eager to let his guard down. Gerard is fast asleep and has shifted onto his side, so that he's facing away from Frank. The young man glances longingly at the door, his chest and stomach still aching from the small wound.

_if he could just get to the door…_

The door was a long ten feet away, normally not a problem, but agonizingly distant in the given situation. He has to, he has to get away. He has to tell the others, because they aren't crazy, they'll help him. He needs to get to that door.

He slowly slips off the mattress, wincing as he rises. He breathes a sigh of relief as the maniac snores gently, but nothing more. He never new making his way to a door would be so tedious. He's finally there and he wants to cry because he's going to make it.

"What are you doing?"

Frank must jump at least a foot in the air, spinning around, he sees the sadist, not angry, but more like disappointed, a small frown lingering on his face for just a moment later until it is replaced with a look of realization. This is replaced by anger.

"I…" Frank has no idea what to do, because what can he do?

"You were trying to run away, weren't you?" Gerard's eyes are black; his whole face is dark with anger and jealously.

_Oh my god,_ Frank thinks _I'm going to die._

Gerard grabs by his shoulders, forcing him to turn around. His back pressed deep into the frame of the bed, and the metal hurts, but he doesn't care, because he's got bigger fears right now.

"You're not fair Frank. I love you, you're not being fair. You love me, right Frankie? You love me?" Gerard is pleading with eyes, and Frank can't say anything. Gerard shakes him. "Tell me! Tell me you love me! Please!" He brings the knife up and Frank would do anything to get away; but he can't speak, can't move, can't breathe.

"TELL ME!" He brings the knife down, cupping Frank's mouth with the other hand, muffling his involuntary yelp.

"Tell me! _Tell me! **TELL ME**__**!**_" He's screaming, puncturing each shout with a stab to Frank's chest. It's a wonder no one hears them.

A few minutes later, Gerard is fast asleep, and Frank Iero is bleeding to death. He wants to scream for help, but he can't. Blood is pouring out of his deep wounds, his mouth. He wants to cry, he can't. He's hurting.

_"Close your eyes and trust me."_

His eyes turn to look at Gerard and he wonders, fear and regret tainting his emotions. Maybe if Gerard wasn't crazy, maybe he could love him. Maybe if he'd been given a chance, he could help him. Maybe, just maybe…

It's too late now.

Frank Iero is dead.

* * *

It can't be any later than 8 when Gerard wakes up the next morning. His arms are wrapped around Frank's body. He smiles and buries his face in his neck.

"Morning, Frankie." He says cheerfully.

He gets no response.

Is he still upset over their argument? He looks over at his face. No, he's just sleeping. He looks so still, so calm, so beautiful. He's obsessed with this image; this image of Frank just still. He lies back down. He'll sleep a couple more hours. He won't bother Frank anymore. He knows he needs his rest. He tightens his grip on the younger man, a small satisfied smile on his face.

"I love you, Frankie." He whispers.

And with one more satisfied sigh, he drifts back to sleep


End file.
